See Me Through
by gracefacex
Summary: I'm afraid you're true.
1. Fill

_/F/_

It's the way she breaks in my arms. I can't stand to watch it, her falling so delicately into me, still elegant and powerful but broken. She shakes in this weird way that stiffens her body, making it difficult to hold on to her. When she cries it reminds me of a small child, whose ice cream is melting, drip, drip, dripping off her nose and onto my shirt. I'm just here to take care of her and keep her pieces all glued together. I could never love her again. Not after how she hurt me. It's when her big brown eyes find mine that I can't resist helping. I just like taking care of people.

_/Q/_

I'm just falling apart. My eyes are leaking and my mouth feels all dry. Sometimes I make myself throw up because I just can't stand being inside my own body. The mirrors have been taken off the walls. Finn is always here, in his big dopey way, holding me and acting like he understands. He could never. Little parts of my heart ache for him sometimes though, when I'm up at night wondering what he could be doing. I always find myself crashing into his chest and exposing the side of me that only he can see. Why is that? I miss the days when I didn't cry in front of anyone, where it was a secret. It was done beneath the sheets of my bed with the lights off, my cheerios uniform sticking to my skin in the ways that I hated. The uniform is what makes it worse. When I put it on preparing to feel inferior, yet that feeling is not there anymore, it only lingers on the red threads that I used to take so much care of. All I feel now is emptiness. I'm lacking something that I never should have let go of.

_/F/_

I don't love her. I just hate watching this. The way she carries herself is so fake, so twisted. I can't stand watching her not in control. I couldn't love her all messy like that anyways. I just don't love her. I don't love her smile, her hair, the way she smells, and the way she likes the parts of movies where they kiss in the rain, the feeling of her eyelashes on my face. I don't love any of that. I don't. **I don't.**

_/Q/_

What am I doing? I'm standing in front of Noah Puckerman's door. He isn't answering it; I can't stop hitting the doorbell. My hands are shaking and I just start pounding on the door, my body sinking to the ground as I do. The tears form and I think of Finn. I think of Beth with her hands reaching out to my face, I pushed her away; I let her slip from my arms. Now I am on Noah's doorstep, in a uniform that used to mean everything, letting myself fall apart in ways that I never would before. People are staring with these expressions that make me feel like maybe someone cares. They wouldn't if they knew. I choke as I cry, my breath speeding up, the space around me spinning. My heart is racing and I'm panicking, begging God to open up my lungs so I can just breathe. He doesn't listen.

_/F/_

I fucking hate car pools. Is enough seeing Puck at football, but this is just pushing it. I watch out the window as he makes perverted comments to the other guys. Sometimes I just want football to not exist, for me not to car, for me to just do what I want for a change. But its high school. In high school all of this matters. I can't wait to grow up and leave all of these people and all of these buildings and just live the life that I've always wanted to. I keep thinking and dreaming until I see her and I yell. We all jump out of car and shake her, searching, hoping. Everything moves so fast and all I see is red lights twirling, my face is burning up and water is falling. My arms are looking for her to hold but I have to wait. I take Puck's car and follow the ambulance, crying and shaking at the wheel. Please, please, please. I pray for the first time in years. I just want her to be okay. Please, please, please.

_/Q/_

My mom is wringing her hands. This just makes it worse. I'm lying in a hospital bed listening to my mom hum, trying not to reach over and slap her to shut her up. I know why she's doing it though, because I fucked up. I was never supposed to be this girl that I am now. A doctor with a large nose enters and hands my mother a clipboard, mumbling to her words that I cannot hear. Her face scrunches together as if she's going to cry, but she takes the pen and scribbles out her name. "Quinnie." She says later on as the doctor leaves, "You're going to be staying here for awhile." She pushes back my hair and fakes a smile, rambling on about the mental ward being one of the best in the state of Ohio. I close my eyes and try to fall asleep; I can't digest this right now.

Three hours later I wake up screaming.

_/F/_

When she screams I jump. Touching her back, and telling her its okay. She shakes me off, this isn't new. "Your mom had to go home to get you some stuff…she asked me to stay." I watch Quinn gulp.  
"Oh." She murmurs, a flush of red appears on her cheeks, her eyes become smaller then they truly are. She's about to cry. I put myself beside her, letting her body fall into mine like we usually do. I wonder if she uses me. "I'm crying because I'm embarrassed." This is the first time she's told me a reason.  
"Why?"  
Quinn looks up at me, "I have to stay in the mental ward here. I had a panic attack."  
"I know."  
"Okay."  
We sit like this until her mother's heels are heard outside the curtain, and the doctors tell her its time.  
I tell her to call me.  
I wonder if she will.

AN:/ Hopefully this was alright… I was bored and just started writing. Its loosely inspired by _It's Kind of a Funny Story_ by Ned Vizzini, if you haven't read it check it out! Also, review if you read please, I love getting feedback._  
_


	2. the room

_/Q/_

They take me in a wheelchair to the seventh floor. The elevator is silent because I just don't know what to say. I swear it feels like everyone around me is disintegrating into a pile of dust. I was never this girl. I sigh and the woman pushing me looks worried, the elevator opens and she starts turning me around corners. Then I see a white door with a square window, we stop there. The door slowly cracks open and I get the tag around my wrist checked by a man in blue scrubs, he sadly smiles down at me, taking my wheelchair.  
"I'm Rod." He says to me, "I promise you will hate it here." I can't help but laugh a little at the way he says this. "Anyways, that right there is the rec room. The tv is in there, a few board games, cards." He's gesturing to the room on my right, that has a few people cramped around the tv, and a boy sitting at the card table shuffling over and over again. I nod. "Then there's the showers, nurses station, cafeteria, and… this is your room." As he talks he's pointing and waving at different kinds of people. Nobody looks as crazy as I imagined.  
"Who's that?" I ask him, and he seems surprised at my voice. I'm currently looking at the bed opposite of what Rod has said is mine. A woman with long, long black hair is lying with her eyes closed, her hands perfectly placed on her stomach.  
"That's Mickey, your roommate." Roommate? I swallow hard and get out of the chair.  
"Well, thanks." I tell Rod, giving him a small smile. He waves and steps out of the room. Now what do I do? I notice a bag of things lying on my bed, the fabric of the bag is familiar. There's a note from my mom on the outside, I toss it aside and open the bag. There are three t-shirts, a sweatshirt, and three pairs of sweatpants. No jeans? I look in the bag some more, but there's only underwear and toothpaste. I leave my things sprawled out across my bed and walk to the connecting bathroom, shutting the door. I want to scream. I want to cry. I want to take the sleeping pills that are in my mother's medicine cabinet and just sleep for hours and hours. But then there's a noise by my side and the woman with the long black hair is standing at the door shaking her head.  
"You didn't lock the door."

_/F/  
_My palms are all sweaty. I keep licking my lips. Santana is looking at me funny as we drink coffee together at a local diner. "Finn, you're acting really weird. Just tell me what's going on."  
So I just start blabbing in my nervous, stupid way. I keep questioning the words that I'm saying and Santana looks annoyed.  
"So she's in the loony bin?"  
"Shut up, San."  
"But she is?"  
"Well, yeah."  
"Fuck." Santana lights a cigarette, I keep wondering why she's smiling.  
"Can you stop doing that?"  
"Doing what?"  
"Smiling!"  
She smiles bigger.  
"San. Stop. It's not funny."  
"Why do you care so much? She broke your heart, Finn." She blows her smoke in my face, I feel it burn at the bottom of my lungs.  
"Give me one of those." I jester at her cigarettes.  
"You don't smoke." She says casually.  
"I do now."_  
_  
_/Q/  
_Mickey sits on my bed and stares at me. "So, tell me." She says.  
"Tell you what? Why I'm here?"  
"No, no. Don't start there. Tell me _everything_."  
There's way too much to say, I think; my mind drifting off as I speak words that have been in my head forever out loud for the first time. I tell her the facts. That I'm cheerleader that's pressured to stay skinny, pressured to have sex with the football players, to drink beer at parties and dance on tables. My chest tightens when I realize the things I'm saying aren't what really make me this way. It was that I wanted to be loved by more than one person. That I wanted Noah Puckerman to think I was sexy and not boring. I let him fuck me. I didn't push him away, I said yes. I liked it. Then I found myself peeing on a stick alone in the girl's bathroom weeks later. That was it. I was really alone. Nobody knew me how they should. My best friends didn't know me inside and out, but they thought they did.  
"It's okay, don't cry." Mickey says, and I feel her wipe a tear away that I didn't know was there.  
"Sorry. It's just, I never thought I'd be somewhere like this."  
"None of us do. I've been here for three months, and I still think it doesn't make sense."  
Three months? I don't want to ask her about it just yet, so I just nod, looking out into the hallway.  
"Want to meet some people? They won't bite, I promise."  
"Yeah. That would be nice." I follow her out of the room, looking at her hair sway by her waist; it's actually kind of beautiful.

_/F/  
_I'm laying on Santana's bed now, watching her talk to Brittany on the phone. It's interesting to watch someone be in love, I miss that feeling. I sigh to myself and stare at the ceiling until I hear the whispered "I love you" Santana constantly uses when she talks to Brittany.  
"How nice." I say, smiling. She hits me with a pillow.  
I like having a best friend. I generally just like Santana. I like the way she tells me I'm stupid for still liking Quinn, I like the necklace she always wears with a silver bird in flight, I like the way that she isn't afraid to tell me the truth. This is why I ask her: "Do you think I should write to Quinn? I mean, I think if I was in that place…I'd want someone to write to me."  
Santana sits up and I am afraid she'll hit me, but she only smiles, "That's a good idea Finn."  
I decide to start right away.

AN:/  
Sorry for the lack of Finn, but I really am enjoying writing Santana and his friendship that I thought would be interesting. I'm not really 100% sure about where any of this is going, but I don't want everyone to expect a huge romance between Finn and Quinn. Just a warning! This is a story about healing…with some help too of course. Anyways..review if you read please! xxGrace


End file.
